


Congratulations, You're Dying

by PeachyLana



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM, Extreme haunted house, F/M, Horror, Humor, JonxSansaff October Challenge, Kinky stuff, Knife Play, Pure Halloween craziness, Ramsay is involved so consider everything on the table, Still going with Jon and Sansa being cousins, Trash Fic, a little sibling incest, but they still think they're half siblings, consensual torture, dom/sub themes, general ridiculousness, jonsa, pain play, please don't come into this with high expectations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-27 04:49:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8387815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachyLana/pseuds/PeachyLana
Summary: Robb is taking the gang to an extreme haunted house, but Sansa just needs a ride.  Things quickly spiral out of control.      
Or my husband's summary: "People do shit.  It's weird." 
My first and last Modern AU.  A complete trash fic.  It's just something crazy for Halloween.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the awesome You're The Worst episode Spooky Sunday Funday. I mean, come on, Gretchen was dressed up as Dany so I had to(watch it). And yeah, these places are real; the rules and waivers of some of these places are insane.
> 
> No Beta. Sorry for the errors.

Sansa stared at her phone, willing her damn brother to return her texts.   _What the hell are they all doing?_  That was a dumb question.  She remembered Talisa was off, a rarity for the weekend with her insane work schedule.  

Theon and Jon were supposed to go out with them tonight too.  Theon was probably halfway drunk by now, and Jon….Sansa scoffed.  He enjoyed his time with the boys, but it was only for so long before he looked miserable.  Maybe she should try to text Jon.  Or would that be too weird?  She rarely spoke to him.  In fact, going through her messages, it was months between interactions, and usually simple questions with yes or no as a response.  Considering they all lived together, you'd think they'd be closer. It didn't help that he usually looked annoyed when she was around anyway.  Luckily, Robb replied before she made that mistake.  She eyed the text message curiously.

_On the way to a haunted house.  Go with us or wait._

Sansa threw her head back with a heavy sigh.  No, she wasn’t going to wait.  “Fine.”  She growled, stabbing her fingers into the phone screen.  Haunted houses, really?  Weren’t they too old for that?  Sansa had never been to one before for a good reason.  She _hated_ being scared.  By the time the car pulled up she wanted throttle her brother for taking so long.  She walked up to the car, and bit back a groan of frustration.  Talisa was in the passenger seat, leaving Theon AND Jon in the back.

“No complaining,” Robb said as Sansa sat sandwiched between Jon and Theon.  “You’re lucky there’s space for you.”

She grumbled quietly, but kept it to herself.  “Thank you for getting me.”   

“Sunday Funday!”  Talisa turned with an uncharacteristic shout and laugh.  Sansa only nodded in response even though it most definitely was _not_ Sunday.

Robb took a deep breath.  “She had _one_ drink.”

“Sorry!”  Talisa laughed.  “I haven’t had a drink in a month, and I’ve been on call the last 36 hours, but haunted house!  Whoo!  Sansa, I’m so glad you’re coming with us!”  Talisa pumped her fists.  

Sansa couldn’t even lean back against the seat, her shoulders could barely fit between the two men.  Jon stared out the window and Theon, much less drunk than Talisa, called random girls on his phone.  Sansa scrolled through her phone to hopefully make this ride less awkward.  

“I think that’s the turn.”  Talisa pointed enthusiastically, but not quite fast enough.  Robb sharply turned the wheel, causing a disruption for the people in the backseat.  Sansa’s phone flew out of her hand as she smashed into Jon’s side with Theon crushing her in-between.  

“What the hell?”  Jon and Sansa echoed at the same time.  She quickly withdrew her hand from his leg, which she only used to brace herself, and elbowed Theon back out of her space.  

“Is there anything nearby you can drop me off at?”  Sansa asked, but from the looks of things, there was nothing around at all.

Theon nudged her with a wry grin.  “Are you scared already?”  

“No.”  She huffed.   _Lie._   

“Don’t be a baby, Sansa.”  Robb said.  “It’s just a bit of fun.”

“Better than a Monday,” Talisa sang to herself.

“I’m not being a baby!”  Okay, that sounded like a baby.  “I just don’t like being scared.”  You'd think they'd know her well enough by now.  

Talisa continued, “Can only do it one way.”

Robb spoke over the drunken brunette.  “Jon doesn’t like this sort of thing either, but at least he knows how to go with the flow, right?”  Robb glanced at his half-brother in the rear-view mirror.  Jon merely shrugged as Talisa shouted her continuing song.  “And that is the drunk way!”

Sansa eyed her phone on the floorboard between Jon’s feet.  Should she ask him to please get it, or reach for it herself?  She chose the latter and dove between his legs.  “Damn it, Sansa!”  Jon barked in surprise.  It proved far more difficult, because she was too damn tall and had to bend her neck awkwardly.  She looked up at Jon with her head in his lap while her hand reached for the device.  “Sorry,” she blushed.  

“Can’t you wait five minutes?”  Jon pulled her back upright and off his body.   

Maybe her hand was too far up his thigh as she tried to right herself.  That was quite rude, wasn’t it?

“It’s really hot in here,” Theon grumbled, rolling down the window;  the extremely cold north air rolled right in.  

Sansa wrapped her arms around herself glaring at Theon.  “It’s freezing!  Will you shut that.”  She reached over to do it herself, but he swatted her hand away.  

“Why aren’t you wearing a coat?”  Theon eyed her sorry state of dress.

“Oh gods,” Jon whispered to himself.  He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.  

“Bran, Arya, and Rickon cause less trouble back there than you three,” Robb sighed.

“I’m not even involved!”  Jon blurted.  

Sansa wanted to stick her tongue out at Jon, glad to bring him into the fold, but chose the lady-like path, her blue eyes glinting as she smiled at him.  He did NOT look amused.  “Speaking of Arya,” Sansa said with a haughty tone.  “She will be furious when she finds she wasn't invited.”

“We’re going next week.  This one's not for minors.  We're going next week.”  Robb said.  “Going to make it a big thing like last year.”

“Last year?”  Sansa repeated in confusion.

“We asked you if you wanted to come,”  Robb said.  “Don’t you remember?”

_No._   But it didn’t sound that much unlike her, to blow them off without even hearing what was going on.  It's not like they wanted her to go anyway.  She was the odd one out.  Her brothers, Theon, and Arya were like one big pack.  She just sort of strayed on the outside.  

 

 

Jon’s eyes glanced at Sansa, and watched her brow furrow.  “Yeah,” she answered coolly.  “Now I do.”  Sansa sat now silently beside him.  Her hands pressed neatly in her lap and the complaining came to a halt.  He hoped they were almost there.

Theon leaned forward to get his attention.  “What was the name of the hot redhead?  I know you love redheads, what’s that whore’s nam-”

Sansa’s head slowly moved to Jon curiously, and he hated how he blushed.  

“Theon!”  Robb growled from the driver’s seat.  “Can you not talk like that in front of Talisa and my little sister.”

“I’m not a child, Robb.”  Sansa rolled her eyes, while Talisa looked around.  

“What?”  She asked confused.

Robb pat his girlfriend's leg.  “Nothing, babe.  Keep drinking that water.”

“Ros,” Jon answered quietly and saw his half-sister’s head turn towards him now obviously listening.   

“Ros!” Theon shouted at the familiar sound of the name then reduced his voice to a very bad whisper, which he tried to do while leaning over Sansa to speak to Jon.  “Did you end up fucking her?”

Sansa’s wide-eyes were comical enough before that statement.  “Why don’t you just call and ask her?”  Jon suggested, and Sansa tried to hide a smile.  Robb parked the car and Jon already wanted to go home.  This was going to be a long night.  

Sansa leaned forward in the seat.  “Can I just wait here?”  She whispered to Robb.

Jon pitied the girl.  Did she not want to be with them that much or was she actually terrified?  They piled out of the car, and she already looked miserable.  At least she wore boots, but he knew her thin shirt, and sorry excuse for pants weren't enough to keep her warm.  Jon grabbed the keys from Robb to get into the trunk.

 

 

Sansa rubbed her arms, cursing herself for not dressing warmer, BUT no one told her she’d be standing in the middle of the fucking woods at night.  She almost asked Robb for his over-shirt, a soft nudge against her back made her turn around.  Jon silently offered her a black sweater.  Sansa immediately recognized it.  “You still have this?”  She made it for him as a name day gift a few years ago.  She was still a beginner at the time.  It was supposed to be a scarf for herself, but she panicked when she realized she had no idea what Jon liked as the date approached.  The yarn was soft and expensive, so she didn’t feel too bad experimenting with an actual piece of clothing.  It took so long and she agonized over it.  Once finished, Sansa left it on his bed with a note and that was it.  Now it resided in the trunk of the Stark children’s shared car.  She’d be lying if that didn’t sting a little bit.

“Of course I still have it.  It’s my favorite.  Ghost destroyed two of mine as it is, so I keep it here for when I go out.  It also helps since everything I own is covered in white fur.”

_Oh._  Sansa’s face lit up.  “I’m glad you like it.  Did I get the fit right?  I almost snuck in your room and stole some clothes to get the measurements.”  She pulled it down over her head, and gods, she was hit by the scent of him.   Even though they were about the same height without her heels, the sleeves seemed too long.

“It’s perfect.”  He smiled, and Jon’s smile was genuinely beautiful.  She grinned awkwardly, and they just sort of looked at each other until it got weird. Even though it _shouldn’t_ be weird.  She coughed and attempted to change the subject.  

“You don’t seem like the haunted house type.  How did you get roped into this?”  Sansa asked.  She had no basis for that statement.  She just hoped her intuition was correct.   

“He didn’t really tell us until we were already at the bar and two drinks deep.”  Jon admitted.  “I suppose it can’t be that bad.  I’m mostly here to see how Theon reacts.  He’s already bet he’d wouldn’t be scared at all.”

They walked up to the line with the others.  “I’d love to see him terrified.  I might stay just to see that.”

“Sansa, I’ve heard you scream for help from a spider,” Jon said, again with a little smile.

“Hey!  It was a big spider.”  She nudged him in the ribs.  Had she ever purposely and playfully touched him before?  “Arya had to take care of it since you lot kept laughing at me.”  She glared.

“I heard this place has a coffin full of spiders that they lock select victims in,” Robb said turning suddenly with an evil smile.

“Not funny, Robb,” Sansa hissed as Jon attempted to hide his shudder of discomfort.    

“Well, look who it is.”  A woman’s smokey voice in a strong Northern accent caught Sansa off guard.  A very pretty redhead strut right up to them and directed her attention onto Jon.  His eyes widened and he looked incredibly guarded.  “Ygritte.”

The girl gave Sansa a big grin, a playful glint in her blue eyes.  “You really do like girls kissed by fire don’t you, Jon Snow?”  Sansa shivered at the way this girl said his name.  

“This is my sister, Sansa.” Jon said tersely.  Ygritte didn’t seem embarrassed at all.  She only laughed.  “Good luck in there.  You'll need it.”  She shot him one last glance over her shoulder as she walked away.

Sansa stared after her.  “You dated her?”  She was gorgeous, and...did Jon like that type of girl?  

Jon exhaled heavily and then quietly replied.  “Yes.”

“What happened?”  She asked looking at him.

Jon sputtered at the question.  “Do I ask you about the guys you dated?”

_Did I offend him?_  “Sorry, I was just curious.”  Sansa said taken aback.  Jon trudged ahead following Robb, Talisa, and Theon as the line shortened.  Sansa’s anxiety began to build.  There was nothing to fear, it was fake and she had brothers, and even Theon, that would be something...right?  Why was the entrance peppered with so many warning signs?  

Talisa spun around to Robb and almost fell, luckily he caught her.  “Maybe you should tell them that this isn’t a regular haunted house.”  

Robb shrugged.  “How bad could it be?”

Jon eyeballed the waiver set in front of him.  “What’s all this for?”  He eyed Robb suspiciously.

“Legalities, you know,” Robb brushed it off and handed him a pen.   “It’s supposed to be fun.  What’s the harm?”

Theon laughed at the piece of paper and began to read aloud.  “Extreme physical contact, tight spaces, water submersion?”  

Sansa shook her head.   “Nope.  I’m not doing it.”  Yes, there was mention of even electrical shocks.

“But look!”  Robb pointed to the page.  “You get a safe word.  You can get out at any time.”

“A safe word?”  Sansa repeated.  Does he have any idea how that sounds?  “As in a BDSM scene?”  She immediately regretted saying that aloud, because now everyone gave her a horrified look, as if she was that damn naive about the world.  Sansa looked to Jon, who appeared just as uncomfortable as she was.  Sansa finally spoke up again.  “It says be prepared for clothing to be removed or damaged.  You must listen to every instruction with no resistance.  They can literally do whatever they want.”  She looked to Jon.  “Are you really doing this too?”

Jon withheld a scoff.  How could he not?  If Robb and Theon were both in, then he would never hear the end of it.  Sansa put the paper up to his face, nearly stabbing it through with her finger.  “It says simulated sexual contact!  What does that even _mean?_  Must be in excellent physical health.”

“Yes, Sansa, he can read,” Robb said with annoyance.  “It can’t be that bad.”

Sansa turned to the woman at the door.  “How many people make it through without saying the safe word?”

“Most.”

“See?”  Robb smiled triumphantly.  

“Oh wait, you said _without_ saying it?”  The girl asked.

Robb took Sansa by the arms.  “No one is going to make you do this, okay?  If you’re that scared then just wait for us out here.”

Talisa then grabbed onto Sansa’s arm with a whisper.  “How about we just say the safe word as soon as it starts.  Then they can still play and we can sit and have hot chocolate by the bonfire?”

Now that sounded nice.  Let them have their stupid scares.  If Jon was smart he’d do the same, but he was a grown man.  If he had some sort of thing to prove then _whatever_.    

“I don’t even like scary movies, but fine.”  Sansa scrawled her name on the piece of paper.  “I’m out as soon as it gets even slightly scary.”

Before the door opened a psychotic killer clown with a bloodied machete guarded the gate.  Sansa cringed.  “I hate clowns,” she whispered.

“Everyone hates clowns,” Theon agreed.

The clown suddenly yelled at them.  “There are no rules!  Only the safe word will get you out!”  Robb and Jon shared a nervous chuckle.  “Acknowledge!”  He screamed and they all jumped, blurting out yesses and yeahs and the door opened.  They filed in, but the crazy clown's hand shot out to stop Talisa.  “Not you,” his voice turned kind.  “You’re way too drunk, doll.  Go sit in the tent, there’s hot chocolate and cookies.”

“Cookies?”  Sansa stopped with a smile.  Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

“Silence before I slice you open!”  The pure nightmare shouted.  Sansa yelped and nearly ran into Theon.

“Have fun, babe!”  Talisa waved to Robb, and the door slammed shut.

Robb sighed.  "I suppose it's for the best."

“One down.  Four to go, already scared?”  Theon teased.

“Yes!”  Sansa yelled.  “I thought that was obvious.”  The inside entryway looked like the entire building should be condemned, and probably was, so the sadist owners could cut down on the decor expenses.  The horror-scape reminded her of the video games her brothers played.  They walked ahead into a much darker room and another set of doors shut loudly behind them.  She already _hated_ this, and was prepared to voice that fact every second just to be extra annoying.  But she also badly wanted to ask if she could hold someone’s hand, as childish as it sounded.  

“Just stay close,” Robb reassured.  “It’s not like we’re splitting up.  There are worse haunted houses, ones that you have to go through alone.”  Sansa felt faint at the thought.   

 

 

A light touch brushed against Jon’s arm.  He glanced at Sansa, she crept closer, her fingers itching to hold onto his arm.   _Fine_.  He leaned over to say she could hold his arm if it made her feel better.  The lights went out completely and Sansa screamed.  He assumed it was the darkness and how easily she startled, but her hand was torn from him.  He turned, but it was too dark to see clearly.  Her screams dissipated in the distance as they snatched her away.  “They-they took her.”  Jon said stunned. _Shit._    

Robb groaned.  “Damn it.”

Jon fought the protective worry coursing through his veins.  Surely, Robb felt the same.  

“It’s fine,” Theon reassured.  “She can leave whenever she wants.”  That should have made him feel better, but it didn't.  What if she forgot the safe word?  Or didn't remember if she even had a choice?  He pushed the concern aside.  She'd be fine, probably sitting with Talisa right now. 

“She’s going to be so pissed.”  Robb lamented already as they fumbled around in the door.  “Is there a door anywhere near here?  Which way did it sound like they took her?”  

Jon felt around the walls in the dark until he came upon a latch.  “I think I found it.”  

He expected a slightly more classic haunted house, not the setting of a torture porn movie.  Chainsaws revving in the distance put them quickly on alert.  Cliched, but it still made him anxious enough to hang back and let Robb and Theon turn the corners and open the doors first. That changed upon the arrival to a bizarre passageway.  Chained to either side of a **_very_ ** narrow hallway were men and mostly women in various states of dress.  Some completely naked, some just in pieces of tattered underclothes and covered in blood.  The closer ones grabbed at Theon when he ventured too close.  He jumped back with a little laugh, busy ogling the women, especially the naked ones.  Robb began to slide through the corridor sideways, as they screamed and begged for help, ripping at his shirt and arms.  Robb broke into a run with a little yelp as they pulled against their bindings and lunged at him.  

“Just run!” Robb shouted down to them.  

Jon noticed the chains began to loosen on a few of them, and with rising apprehension, he entered the hall.  Jon turned his head to Theon, but he was gone.  “Theon?”  Jon turned distracted.  

“What’s the problem?”  Robb called again.

Jon's brows furrowed as he surveyed the darkness.  "Theon's -" A bloodied hand from a girl on the wall grabbed his shirt and pulled him into more the bodies.  A hand from the opposite side grabbed the waistband of his pants.

“What the hell is going on?”  Robb yelled from the opposite site of the hall.  

Jon tried to pull free, but a third or fourth hand gripped his hair and pulled tight.  He scrunched his nose in pain and cursed having long hair. _Now what?_  It certainly felt like they were going to either rip his shirt off or pull a chunk of hair out of his scalp.

“He’ll punish us if you’re not properly prepared.”  A girl hissed in his ear.  That really wasn’t going to work on him, but he entered so he’d play the damn game.  The seams began to tear on his shirt; the sound of a chainsaw kept approaching, as well as the smell of gasoline.  It made him just a little bit antsy.  

“You can have it, okay?”  His hair was freed and he let them pull the piece of clothing violently off of him.  Then they went for his pants and he scoffed, not about to go that far, and tore himself free from who knows how many hands.  He nearly tripping down the hall dodging limbs, the further he got the more frantic the wails from the chained prisoners grew.  The nails on the girls’ bloodied hands clawed at his skin as he passed.  A girl screamed at him as she swiped at his face.  “He’ll hurt us!”  Jon stumbled to the other end, fake blood smeared all over his chest and pants.  He winced touching one of the few scratches on his arms.  And to make it even better, Robb was gone.   _Damn it, Robb._

 

 

Sansa was dropped unsteadily on her feet in the dark.  She couldn’t believe they already separated her from the group.  Should she just call it quits now?  She could join Talisa and drink hot beverages instead of roughly having her arms pulled in front of her and having her wrists tied together.  But...a sick curiosity didn’t allow her to give up quite yet.   

She was shoved into a badly lit room, an awful red light that bathed everything in a sickly glow.  She already had a feeling this entire thing was going to involve lots of shoving and being pushed around.  A woman dressed in red--Well, Sansa assumed it was red, everything seemed fucking red.  She blinked trying to get her eyes used to the light.  A man approached.  The man...Sansa swallowed hard.  His big, sadistic eyes terrified her enough, but his smile was worse.  Sansa’s head whipped around worriedly.  Maybe one of them was taken with her?  

“There’s no need to look for your friends.”  He gripped her chin tight.  “What’s your name, sweet girl?”

“S-Sansa,” she whispered.  He didn’t look that imposing.  Not like the giant man that picked her up like she weighed nothing, but she wasn’t an idiot.  But this was all an act so she was safe, right?

“Sansa,” he repeated, then looked to the red woman.  “Melisandre, go choose your lamb from the rest.”  The red woman faintly smiled and left the room.  The man looked back at Sansa warmly.  “My name is Ramsay,” he gently pushed a stray piece of her hair behind an ear.  “I’m going to have so much fun with you.”  Sansa’s heart pounded in her chest.  The more he spoke, the more dread filled her.  “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.  This won’t be fun for _you_ at all.”  He said with far too much honesty.  “Maybe I should go ahead and give you a feel for how this is going to be.”  He grabbed a handful of her hair.  Sansa yelped as he dragged her over to some dirty basin of water.  She hoped it was water.  “Deep breath,” he encouraged, once she shakenly did as told Ramsay roughly submerged her head down into the icy liquid.  The chill took her breath away, inducing immediate panic.  He pulled her head back up.  Water cascaded down her chest and she inhaled greedily.  It was only a moment relief before he shoved her under again.

_I’m going to die._  The grip on the back of her neck was so firm she couldn’t stop this now even if she wanted to.  She gasped for air the second time she came up and pleaded.  “Please, I don’t-”

“I didn’t ask you a question, Sansa, so you don’t get to speak.”  Ramsay stated with unnerving calm.  There was a tiny pause; that was her chance.   _Just say the word and get out, you idiot!_ She remained silent and he forced her under the frigid water again, longer than the previous two times, and her legs got weak.  She fought the desire to thrash wildly.  What the fuck was wrong with her?  Ramsay let her go and she fell to the floor, sputtering with wet hair plastered to her face.  Her eyes blinked back water that blurred her vision, or was it tears.  It was probably a mix of both, although she still wasn’t ready to give up.  Her heart raced; she was flooded with adrenaline.  It was oddly...exhilarating.  He roughly hauled her back up on her feet and thrown into a new room.  A few girls seated on the ground against the walls naked or half-naked.  They all had black bags over their heads and hands bound.  Sansa's dread grew.  

“Sit.”  Ramsay simply ordered.  She collapsed against the wall between two other girls and slid to the floor.  Is this game that elaborate?  Are these girls all part of the scene?  She eyed the door on the opposite side of the room.  What were the rules?  Should she try to run?  He threw a black cloth bag over her head so she was just like the others.  “I’ll give you a very important note,” he chuckled.  “Don’t resist.”  Sansa felt a tug on her foot.  He yanked off her boots and socks.  She grimaced when her bare feet pressed on the damp, cold floor.  It was quite sticky too.  Her disgust disappeared when the woman beside her screamed and was dragged out of the room.  The woman continued to beg for mercy until the door shut.  

Then it was quiet, except for her own breathing.

 

 

Jon passed a room with people trapped in cages, gagged, covered in fake blood AND being tortured by men in animal masks.  Were these victims still in there from earlier or were they all actors?  He slunk by a girl crying hysterically and she looked pretty damn convincing.  Not that be blamed her.  He certainly didn’t want to be tied down with a giant spider on his face like her.  Jon sighed as he took another turn to gods knew where.  He no idea what direction he was supposed go or what happened to everyone else.  He ducked into another small walkway.  This lovely passage billowed with the thickest fog he’d ever seen. He rolled his eyes in vexation more than fear.   _Great._  He took a few steps, keeping his hand against the wall to guide him.  Within seconds Jon seriously considered turning back.  Not only was visibility zero, but some asshole set the fog machine to suffocate.  It felt like the fog coated him inside and out with chemical residue.  He clutched at his chest, dreaming of fresh air.  

Jon froze as a figure emerged from the fog.  He couldn’t be sure, because, everything looked like it was coated in a gray, oily film.  But it looked like a woman dressed in red.  

“You’ll do nicely,” she smiled looking him over.  “Ramsay will be pleased.”  She didn’t look especially scary.  She motioned into the white fog with a smile, and a man the size of a damned mountain came from behind her.  “The night is dark and full of terrors.”

Jon looked at the approaching giant in defeat.   _This isn’t going to end well._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay keeps Sansa and Jon occupied in a little warm up while he takes care of some errands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got longer than I anticipated. I'll still get it all knocked out by Halloween...I hope.

 

Not being able to see began to mess with Sansa’s head.  She heard constant whispers, and jumped at every creak that reached her ears.  Her hands were bound, but nothing physically stopped her from raising the hood up to take a peek.  Slowly, she lifted her wrists until her fingers hooked the edge of the hood.  Sansa stiffened as the door screeched open and slammed her hands back into her lap.  She held her breath hoping no one noticed.  A new body was pushed beside her on the floor.  

“You didn’t even try to escape.”  Ramsay was back and he quickly ripped her hood off.  Sansa squinted; she didn’t miss the damned red lights.  “Congratulations, you two get our special attention this evening.”  

“Sansa?”   

She knew that husky, unique voice.  No one else sounded like Jon Snow _.   _ She swelled in relief before she even turned her head.  “Jon!”  For a second, she felt silly for being so elated with his presence.  

Jon, on the other hand, looked horrified upon seeing her face.  He looked like he suffered something quite different than she did.  His dark hair a mess, she assumed fake blood on his face and...chest.  He was missing his shirt.  All other thoughts temporarily went out the window.   _ Seven hells.  _ _ Don’t stare.  He’s your half-brother. _  Her  _ half-naked _ half-brother.  Even the lighting accentuated the definition of muscle in his chest and abs.  If her hands were free she might have blindly touched him just to see if it was real.  “Gods,” she muttered.

“It's so much worse to suffer with an audience, isn't it?”  Ramsay asked them both.  Sansa was too distracted side-eying Jon. 

The red woman followed Sansa’s gaze.  “He is nice to look as isn’t he?”  The red woman asked Sansa with a grin.   _ Nice to look at? _  That was putting it mildly.  The woman bent over and grabbed Sansa’s chin.  There was an impressive amount of cleavage in her face, but the red woman’s words were far more gripping.  “We should make things more fair.  You’re far too clothed.”  

Honestly, she should have seen this coming.

“Agreed.”  Ramsay grabbed Sansa’s ankle and dragged her in front of Jon.  

“What are you doing?!”  Jon shouted as she shrieked.

Ramsay kept his eyes locked with Jon’s.  “What does it look like?”  He gripped her leggings and tore them off easy enough.  Sansa clumsily used her hands to keep her underwear from being dragged off with them.  She quickly brought her knees to her chest with embarrassment.

“No need to be modest,” Ramsay reassured.  “You’ll both be lacking more than that by the end of this.  And  _ you _ ,” Ramsay looked over to Jon, his upbeatness turned to annoyance.  “You should be lacking much more.  Melisandre, who is responsible for that?”  He asked sharply.

“Myranda.”  The woman answered flatly.  Jon’s dark eyes widened considerably.  

He sighed irritably.  “I’ll have to see to her about that.”  He picked up a long metal implement, clenched it in his hand, then went to his knee in front of his two special prisoners.  “I’ll go ahead and let you in on some rules.  You will answer every question and obey every command I give.  If you choose not to, the other will take the punishment for it.”  

Jon glanced at her worriedly.  Sansa hoped he didn’t think she’d let him down.   _ Don’t worry, Jon, I’m not going to get you hurt. _

Ramsey held the metal rod out for them to see more clearly.  He pressed a switch at the base of the handle and it buzzed with electricity  Sansa swallowed and leaned away from him.  He pat her leg with a little laugh.  “Don’t be shy.  You’ll intimately acquainted with this very soon.  I made it myself.  Perhaps a demonstration is in order.”  Ramsay only needed to prod Jon’s side, an impressive spark lit up at the contact.  Jon jerked with a surprised gasp of pain.  Sansa reached for him, but Ramsay blocked her with his toy.  “Now, I’m going to have... _ words _ with Myranda.  Then, I’m going to take care of your friends.  After that, I’ll come back for both of you.  Feel free to explore, and even try to escape. You won’t, but I do like a good hunt.”

Melisandre bent down to run her hand along the side of Jon’s face.  He attempted to pull away, but Ramsay waved the sparking stick in warning in front of Sansa’s face.  Jon let her touch him; she tipped his chin up and whispered by his lips.  “I wonder what you taste like.”  She straightened herself with a seductive smirk, and followed Ramsay out of the room.  

The two sat there in shock, until Sansa finally took a deep breath.  Jon was quickly back on his feet and helped her up, but he glared after the direction their captors went.  She tried to get his attention, full of anxious energy.  “What do we do?”  

Jon finally snapped back, grabbing her arm, even with his hands tied together.  “What are you still doing here?!”  He hissed.  

She opened her mouth, but didn’t have an answer.  He was quite intimidating with those dark eyes impatiently waiting for a response.  “I-I don’t know.  It’s not fun at all, but not bad enough to quit yet.” 

Jon exhaled harshly with his brow furrowed.  “He just undressed you.  And you’re soaking wet, what else did they do to you?”

She looked down at her bare legs.  Should she be more upset about it?  Sansa knew answering wouldn’t help right now so she put it back on him.  “What happened to your shirt?”  Her eyes still lowered, because how could they not?   _ How many sit-ups does it take to look like that? _  Sansa noted he was barefoot as well.  

He looked away.  “The same thing that happened to your pants.”

She eyed the scratches on his arms and the red mark now on his side.  “Was that a cattle prod?  Are you hurt?”

He looked at her curiously, as if it was strange of her to ask if he was okay.  “No, it was more surprising than painful.” 

She didn’t believe that, but pursed her lips.  A girl’s high pitched scream filled their ears, followed by desperate apologies and crying.

“That must be Myranda.”  Sansa shuddered.  Jon, who seemed quite bothered the girl’s cries, headed to the door in the opposite direction Ramsay and Melisandre left.  “We need to go.”

She followed his lead as he leaned out the doorway to check for trouble.  Nothing.  She sighed in relief and they rounded the next corner.  “What happened to haunted houses with people dressed as zombies and vampires jumping out behind corners?”  Sansa asked.  That’s the kind of place she wished she was.  A lame haunted hayride sounded like heaven.  She focused on his back as following behind him.  “So, do you run or lift weights?”      

 

 

Jon stopped and turned.  “What?”   _ What in the seven hells is she babbling about? _

“Nothing.”  She answered with a frown.  Now he felt bad for barking at her.  “Why hasn’t anything happened yet?”  She asked quietly.  

“They’re focused on Robb and Theon now.”  He said and paused as a new sound made its appearance this evening.   Was someone hammering?

“What is that?”  Sansa ran from his side and followed the noise while he cursed and followed her.  “Sansa, get back here,” he hissed.  She ran ahead, blindly entering the next room.  A coffin lay in the middle and there was a girl crying, gagged, and chained to a table.  Jon eyed the closed box warily until he noticed it was nailed shut.  At least nothing would be jumping out at him.  Now his attention went to Sansa.  She searched for a way to free the captured girl while Jon stared in bafflement. 

“What are you doing?”  His tone was harsh and he didn’t care; his patience waned.  “You know she works here, right?”   

“Maybe that’s part of the game.”  Sansa said with surprising ferocity.  “Free the tortured people, you know, things that make sense for the narrative.”

If Jon’s hands weren’t bound they would be running through his hair in aggravation.  “What narrative, Sansa?!  Don’t you see that this is just an endurance game?  There’s no way out.  It’s until time runs out, and I have no idea how long that is.”  

“Freaking out about it isn’t going to help.”  She walked towards him with concern in her eyes.  Was she seriously trying to calm  _ him _ down now?  Her pretty lips managed a soothing smile that even he was momentarily captivated by.  “We’re together, Jon.  We can do this.”  Jon hated how stunning she appeared, even with her long hair soaked and all the makeup she wore washed off her face.  He was able to truly breathe….Until she slipped on the slick floor covered in fake blood, falling right on her ass in the mess.  Her ridiculous long legs splayed out and she whined in pain.  He really wished she was wearing some pants.  “Gross!”  She cried.

_ That’s it _ .  Jon hauled her ass up, and threw her body over his shoulder.  She kicked her legs like a toddler.

“Jon, put me down!”  He set her onto her feet with glare.  “What the hell is your problem?”

He managed to appear taller with his anger.  “Why haven’t you stopped this?”  

She was taken aback.  “Will you stop asking that!  Wait a minute, are you  _ mad _ at me?”

Jon paused.  “No, I’m annoyed.” 

“Because I haven’t given up?”

“Because now you’re my responsibility!”  

She shook her head, blinking in confusion.  “That’s not true.”

Oh, how does she not get it?  Sweet, naive, infuriating Sansa.  “Yes, it is.  I have to protect you.  Robb would do the exact same thing.”  Jon heard banging and turned his head.  Was that coming from inside the coffin?  

Sansa pointed her finger into his chest, retaking his attention.  “You’re not going to be able to protect me here.  If it brings you so much misery being here with me then  _ you _ should quit now.”

“I’m not leaving you here alone.”  He said bitterly.   

She lifted her chin defiantly.  “Robb’s here somewhere and so is-” A terrified man’s scream echoed through the building, followed by begging and pleading.  Sansa’s head snapped to the direction it came from.  “Is that Theon?”

 

“MERCY!”  

 

The two stared at each other.  “What does that mean?”  Sansa whispered with fear creeping into her voice.  “He’s out?”

Jon only licked his lips, trying to gauge which direction to go.  “Sounds like it.”  His hand pressed on the small of her back continuing her along through the room.  Luckily, she went along without a fight.

“Do you think Robb is still here?”  She asked hopefully. 

There was only one way to go and they ran through the next doorway.  “I don’t know.  I wouldn’t focus on either of them right now.”  He mindlessly went down the hall, trying not to think about what could cause Theon to crack that badly.  Jon witnessed the Greyjoy break bones and he never came close to making sounds like that.  He cursed when they reentered the same room.  The table was empty and the coffin lid was ripped open and empty.  How did it manage to get even creepier? 

“We went in a circle,” Sansa said with panic.  “I thought you knew where you were going?”  

He shot her a glare.  “I can’t concentrate with you talking the entire time.”

She looked like she wanted to scream at him, but held her tongue, maybe out of spite.  She silently spun around and went back where they came.   _ Where the hell is she going now?   _

Sansa eyed the lighting on the walls.  It illuminated the path they previously took, everything else was in darkness.  She took off ahead of him, running into the the unlit area and straight into a wall.  

“Damn it, Sansa.”  Jon sighed.  

It didn’t faze her though.  “There’s a secret door.  There always is,” she said, trying to justify her cartoonish action.  She put her hands out, and ran her hand along the walls. She turned to him with a smile.  “I found it.  It’s not a secret door.  More of a secret very tight opening.”

“Into a maze in pitch blackness?”  Jon cracked his neck.  “Sure, why not.  Lead the way.”  He wasn’t impressed, not one bit.  

  
  
  


The walls were wet and slimy with who knows what, Sansa tried not to think about it.  “I really hope this isn’t a dead end,” she whispered.  Her toe hit a step in the dark and she cursed.  “Damn it, who puts stairs in a pitch black maze?”

“A very sadistic person.”  Jon answered.  They took each step waiting for something to grab them, jump out at them, but there was nothing.  The passage opened up to a dimly lit walkway with arrows littering the walls.  Jon stopped to examine them much to her displeasure.

“What are you looking for?”  She shifted her weight, sliding her foot behind her. The ground under her moved and she jerked her foot back.  Sansa tested the spot again with a little more pressure.  The fake floor gave way to a large gap.  She peered down into the pit.  It was incredibly remarkable and also terrifying.  Sansa couldn’t help herself.  

“Jon, it’s a trap!”   _ Nailed it. _  Her legs literally shook from fear, so she thought an attempt to lighten the mood would keep her heart from exploding in her chest.  But Jon was obviously having none of it.  

“Will you be careful, you’ll break your neck.”  Jon ignored her comments and pulled the arrow from the wall.

“Is it real?”  Sansa asked over his shoulder.  Jon used the head to cut the bindings off his wrists, which answered her question.  “Are you supposed to do that?” 

He raised a brow.  “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know, are we allowed to get out of the restraints?”  She asked.

“He didn’t say not to.”  Jon smirked.  She smiled back unconsciously.  Ugh, he was really attractive when he did that.  Good thing he didn’t do it often.  “Was that supposed to be a Star Wars reference?”  He questioned.  “Have you even seen any of them?”

She heard enough quotes from all of them, her brothers, sister, and father combined.  “I’ve seen parts.  I know things.”

“So if I ask which character said that line you could tell me?”  He questioned, flashing his teeth in a grin that made her suck in a breath witnessing.

“You could ask me my own name right now and I doubt I can tell you.”  Her eyes once again lingered over his body. 

“Come on, give me your hands, unless you like being tied up.”  Jon said, then quickly realized how that sounded.  “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Sansa smirked.  “Jon Snow, how improper.”

“Says the girl with no pants, staring at me as wolf eyes a piece of meat.”  Her wide eyes and big open mouth only made Jon chuckle.  “You should be less obvious about it.”

Sansa’s face reddened and heated.  She was too flustered to even deny it. 

An arrow hissed by and embedded in the wall between them as Jon began to work on her bindings.  “I didn’t imagine that did I?”  Sansa was finally able to use words again.  

He slowly looked around.  “No, you didn’t.”

“Someone is seriously shooting arrows at us?!”  Her odd mix of terror and indignation was cut short.  Jon grabbed her arm, and dragged her behind him as he sidestepped the trap and they took off in a run as another arrow shot by them.  “This can’t be legal!”   _ You’re okay.  You can breathe.  They’re not going to kill you...I think.   _ He shoved her ahead of him, ushering her faster, but Sansa saw the discolor of the floor ahead.  Of course there would be more than one trap.  She stopped suddenly, but Jon crashed into her back, and knocked her right over the fake floor.   Her stomach dropped as the ground gave way and she fell into the void with a terrified scream.  It was deep enough that she feared for her wellbeing.   _ I’m going to break something. _

“Umph!”  Sansa landed on a surprising soft surface, but still shook with panic.  She wanted to curl into a ball and just stay there forever.  She’d be happy in her new pit home.  

“Fuck, Sansa, are you alright?”  Jon called down to her.

“Yes, I-I’m fine.”   _ Physically.  Mentally, not so much _ .

“Can you get out?”  He asked.  She couldn’t even see him.  What happened to the arrows shooting at them?  

“Just leave me.”  She said dejectedly.

“Don’t be stupid.  I’m not going anywhere.”

She shook her head.  “They’ll catch you!”

He ignored her words.  “Can you climb?”

Sansa grumbled and felt around the walls, there actually were gaps wide enough to use as foot and hand holders.  “My hands are still tied.”  Shortly after, an arrow dropped down beside her.  “This is stupid,” she said cutting herself free.  “I’m not Bran.”  She waited for a response, but heard nothing.  “Jon?”  She asked.  

A new fear washed over her and she immediately went to climb the wall.  At least her long arms and legs were useful here, although her grip strength was poor.  Her panic grew the closer she got to the top.  “Jon?”  She whispered again.  Her hand felt the edge, but she didn’t have the strength to pull herself up.  She grunted, throwing all of her weight up, but it wasn’t enough.  She slid back, about to lose her footing, but a hand shot down in front of her.  She grasped it and was pulled back to the surface, now face-to-face with her savior.

Sansa’s breath stuck in her throat and Ramsay smiled.  “Ready to get started?”

“Where is he?”  She demanded, even though her lower lip trembled.

Ramsay chuckled.  “Jon?  He’s waiting for you, little dove.”  

  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are going to get kinky.


	3. Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The grand finale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of shitty stuff happened to me recently. Sorry, it could be better, but if I don't post this last bit now I never will.

 

Jon eyed the red woman warily from his prone position.  She admired his body, which was now strapped onto a table.  Jon wished he knew how much more was left of this.  He ached from being thrown around like a ragdoll, no doubt there would be bruises if there weren’t already.   “I need a bit of your blood.”

Jon’s eyes snapped back to hers.  She wasn’t fucking serious.  

“I could use this,” she held up a giant syringe that upon sight, made him lightheaded. Jon quickly averted eyes, trying to be casual about it, but knew it just looked foolish.  He was pretty damn easy to read.  She set the needle down close to his head.  “Or another method, if you prefer.” 

Could she hear his jaw grinding?  

Jon couldn’t see what she was doing, but something cold and wet touched his hip.  He grimaced at the bizarre sensation; his toes curled with obvious discomfort.

“Fucking hell.”  Jon cursed.  “Is that-”

“Hush or I’ll add another in  _ much  _ more sensitive place,” Melisandre warned, undoing the button of his jeans.  He froze in palatable fear.  There was no hiding that on his face. 

The door opened, and Ramsay entered, providing a strange, comforting distraction from Jon’s current situation.  He threw Jon’s borrowed black sweater on the floor, as well as the shirt Sansa wore beneath.  

“What did you do?”  Jon growled. 

“What does it look like I did?”  He responded sharply.  “She begged me not to cut apart this sad rag.”  

Jon glared silently.  

“Melisandre, when you’re done bring him.”

“Bleeding him will only take a moment.”  Melisandre said as the slimy thing moved across his abdomen.  Jon slammed the back of his head onto the table with frustration.  At least the pain momentarily preoccupied him.

Melisandre drew the leech off his skin for Jon to see, and placed it into a small box.  “See, that wasn’t so  bad, was it?”  Then she unstrapped his arms.  “Now come along.”

Melisandre led him to a giant room; his eyes immediately found Sansa.  There were no lights, everything was illuminated by fire, either by sconces on the walls or the multiple small fire pits.  

A giant wooden “X” was the centerpiece of the absurdly realistic dungeon, and Sansa’s arms were tightly tied to it.  Jon tried to focus on her, not the ornateness of the large space, and how it remarkably resembled the inside of a medieval castle.  

Ramsay sat comfortably in a chair that looked designed to torture, and spoke to the clearly distressed girl.  The young man smacked a thin cane against his palm idly, as he droned on about something terrible, then used the cane to point above his seat.

“Once the water starts there’s only a moment between it flowing again, but the beauty there is that you still feel like you’re drowning. A wet rag over the mouth and nose breaks anyone in less than a minute.”

“Mind your feet,” Melisandre quietly warned Jon.  He barely sidestepped a large pool of blood, encircled with decorative stones, and nearly invisible to see.  He leaned over to observe the strange bath closer _.   _ “Stay here until you are called.”

_ Like a dog? _  Jon no longer required ropes, chains, or to be tossed around.  He was just expected to obey now.  It managed to be even more humiliating.

Melisandre passed in front of Sansa with her little box, and flipped it open.  

“What is that?”  Sansa yanked at her bindings much to Jon’s surprise.  Ramsay swept Sansa’s hair off her shoulder, so Melisandre could drop the creature onto her bare skin.  Sansa’s eyes darted around helplessly before settling back to Ramsay.  Jon realized he wasn’t close enough to the flames for Sansa to even know he was in the room, but he could still see her clearly.

“What is she doing?!”  Sansa continued to struggle.  She was more upset over this than anything Jon had witnessed so far.  

“It’ll be over in a minute,” Melisandre said simply.  “It’s just a leech.”

Sansa grit her teeth. “I know I didn’t read about this in the waiver,” she spat.  “Ugh!”  She groaned behind grit teeth, trying not to feel it feed.  

Ramsay took Melisandre’s place in front of Sansa, twirling the cane in his hand.  “Would Jon hurt you?”  He asked.  “If I ordered him to?”  

She shivered, far too wrapped-up with the leech to pay full attention.  Sansa shook her head, with a little quiver of her lip.  

“No,” she answered truthfully.  “He would quit first.”  

Jon eyed her with mixed emotions.  She was right, he’d never hurt her...but this was obviously a setup for something.  Sansa sighed thankfully, when Melisandre finally pulled from her skin and placed back into the box.  

Ramsay chuckled.  “No.  He won’t quit.  Not now.  He won’t leave you here to suffer all by yourself.”

Sansa raised her voice with more confidence.  “He still won’t do it.” 

“Why not?”  Ramsay asked curiously. 

Sansa searched for words.  “He’s too...honorable.”  

Jon’s brow furrowed.  What was that supposed to mean?  Jon thought that  _ maybe _ she’d mention they were half-siblings, to give a reason why this entire scenario could possibly be weird.  They had to think he and Sansa were dating.  That had to be it.  

“How boring.”  Ramsay smirked over his shoulder in Jon’s direction.  “Not even if you wanted him too?”  

Jon curled his lip.  That was a ridiculous question.   _ Wanted to? _  Sansa would never want such a thing, so it was a non-issue.  She simply shook her head and Jon nodded in agreement with her answer. 

“ _ Do _ you want him to?”

“If that’s what it takes.”  Sansa answered calmly.  

 

 

 

Sansa didn’t understand why Ramsay kept glancing behind himself, until he beckoned into the darkness.

“Come here, Jon.”  

Sansa held her breath at the sight of her half-brother stepping out of the shadows.  How long was he there?  His confident stride didn’t match the sour expression on his face.  Once Jon stood beside Ramsay, Sansa forced her eyes down.  She blushed furiously, now only clad in underwear and her very sheer, black bra surely wasn’t doing much.  How come he didn’t lose any more clothing?  _  Sexist bullshit. _

Sansa dared to peek up at Jon.  He couldn’t have looked more miserable.  How did he manage to make  _ her _ feel bad?  _  I’m the one tied to the cross, Jon. _

Ramsay rolled his eyes at Jon’s face.  “Can you do anything without brooding?  It puts me out of my mood.”  

Sansa silently agreed, until Ramsay struck the cane hard across her thigh.  She jumped, sucking in a quick breath.  It took a second to process, then the pain quickly followed.  She tightly pressed her lips together, not making a sound.  

“That’s going to leave a mark,” Ramsay noted; her pale skin already reddened with a thick streak.  Jon looked like he was the one struck.  She appreciated the concern, but really needed him to play along to make it easier for the both of them.

Ramsay offered Jon the cane.  “Take it.  Play the villain for a minute.”  He encouraged, but Jon only glared daggers at him, and Sansa wasn’t surprised in the slightest.  She wondered what the punishment was for Jon’s refusal.  

“Look how sad he is,” Ramsay said to Sansa.  “Like a kicked puppy.  That can’t be helpful while enduring all this.”

“Just punish me instead.”  Jon offered.  If Sansa could put her face in her palms she could.  At this point she’d do it to herself to get this over with.  

“What do I get out of that?”  Ramsay snorted.  “You don’t care about a little pain.  You care about  _ her  _ feeling pain.  Now your disobedience will result in something much worse for the both of you.”  Ramsay shrugged.  “I like testing out new techniques, so thank you for that.” 

“Fine,” Jon growled, reaching for the cane. 

Ramsay gracefully twirled it out of his reach and fluidly struck it across Sansa’s other leg.  She gasped in pain, taking a few gulps of air.  The burn radiated throughout her entire lower body.  

“Oh, it’s too late now.  Did you forget that I’m in control here?”  

Sansa exhaled slowly, Ramsay boldly stared down Jon eye to eye.  He was slightly taller than Jon only because he wore boots. 

“Who is in control?”  He demanded.  Sansa held her breath, afraid of her own excitement.

Jon licked his dry lips, scowling.  “You are.”  

“Good boy,” Ramsay praised.  

Thankfully, Melisandre captured everyone’s attention by wandering up to one of the firepits, and emptying the contents of her small box into the flames.  Sansa uneasily regarded the woman as she stared into the fire. 

“Anything interesting?”  Ramsay broke the silence.

“They’re related.” Melisandre answered.  Sansa and Jon exchanged a curious glance with each other. 

Ramsay smirked at Jon, placing the cane on a table and taking a knife instead.  “If you thought it was awkward already, it’s going to get  _ much _ worse.”

“They’re only cousins.”  Melisandre clarified.  

Sansa scoffed, getting Ramsay’s consideration.  Within two steps he was upon her, the knife blade flat under her chin, lifting it uncomfortably.  “What’s so humorous?”

The laugh died in her throat as she swallowed hard.  “He’s my half-brother.”  

Melisandre turned to them from the fire.  “Half-brother?”  She repeated with a chuckle and eyed Jon carefully.  “You don’t even know your mother’s name.  Now that’s interesting.” 

_ That’s impossible. _  Sansa thought.

Ramsay looked on thoroughly amused.  “Well, Mel, looks like that parlor trick needs more work.”

Melisandre smirked.  “Looks like it does.” 

Sansa wanted to look to Jon again, but Ramsay didn’t make it easy with a knife forcing her eyes in his direction.  Something didn’t feel right.  Was this woman a real witch?  

“Melisandre, why don’t you get Jon comfortable.”  Ramsay suggested.  

Her legs still tingled from Ramsay’s blows.  It made her nerves far too sensitive.  Maybe it was the pain, but a needy possessiveness over Jon made her thoughts go into darker places.  Unwanted jealousy seeped into Sansa bones when Melisandre took his hand and led him to the chair.  

Ramsay noted her gaze.  “If that’s how you usually look at your sibling, then you might not mind this next bit at all.”

Sansa hoped her icy stare was convincing.   

 

 

 

Jon glowered as Melisandre tied his wrists to the straps in the arms of the chair.  The whole not being retrained thing didn’t last long.  His thoughts were heavy with Sansa, unable to even look at her.  All he could see were the red marks on her pale skin.  

Jon was torn from his inner angst when Melisandre began to undress in front of him  Jon’s face flushed the color of this strange woman’s hair, and turned his head in a panic.  Her entire dress fell off her shoulders and she wore nothing beneath.  The gorgeous woman had no qualms being completely nude.   _ Not that she has any reason to be, but _ g _ ods, Sansa don’t watch this. _

To further his mortification, Melisandre sat across his lap with a smile, her hands on his bare shoulders.  He kept his chin rigidly up, not affording any opportunity to look down.  

“Do you think your sister likes the view?”  Melisandre teased, and squirmed uncomfortably in his lap.  “These pants aren’t very forgiving.  It’s about time we lose them, right?”  Her hand slid down his chest.  “I don’t blame her for lusting after you.”

Jon scoffed.  As if that would work on him.  It was short-lived when she unzipped his zipper and and kneeled between his legs.  

_ Shit.     _

Jon glanced to Sansa: he couldn’t help it.  Ramsay had her full attention with his knife.  He ran the blade from just beneath her see-through bra down her stomach to the top of her panties.  The knife caught the flimsy waistband, pulling down the fabric enough to make him temporarily forget where he was.  

Ramsay whispered words into her ear.  Sansa’s eyes shot to Jon’s, big and fearful, with flushed cheeks.  She shook her head at Ramsay’s words, a silent plea.  Jon sucked in a breath as he tried to remain calm, but Melisandre ordered him to lift his hips, pulling his jeans down his legs.  The black, tight boxer-briefs he wore were far too thin. 

_ Fuck.  _

Melisandre stood, and Jon breathed a sigh of relief, moving his gaze someplace safe, like her ankles.  

“Ready for your punishment?”  She moved behind him.  He nearly growled when she slipped a blindfold over his eyes.  It should have helped, but it made everything so much worse.  Jon tensed violently at the fleeting touch of hands running up his thighs, then it disappeared.  A few seconds without physical touch was a blessing, but then a body brushed by him again.  A strong hand grabbed his chin.  Jon snarled instinctively.

“I bet you’re regretting refusing me now, aren’t you?”  Ramsay’s low chuckled in his ear gave him an unwanted chill.  Slender hands touched his knees.  “But maybe you’re enjoying this.  You like women, right?”

Melisandre chimed in much to his displeasure.  “He likes redheads.”  How would she even know that?  

Jon heard Ramsay sputter a laugh; it sounded genuine.  “Are you serious?”  He whispered to her in disbelief.     

A sudden weight fell upon his legs.  The woman straddled him abruptly.  Her deep breaths already sounded pornographic.  What was the endgame here?  Humiliation?  Mission accomplished.

 

 

 

Sansa glared up at Ramsay.  His hand on her shoulder forced her down in Jon’s lap rather roughly.  Her brother sucked in a breath and squared his jaw.  She was breathing so rapidly surely he could hear it.  How fucking wrong, even moreso with just two scraps of fabric separating.. _.oh hell _ .  Sansa bit her lip nervously, as guilt plagued her.  He didn’t have to endure this.  Even if Melisandre was a pretty woman, he didn’t seem to want any bit of it, or maybe he would if she wasn’t there.  

She swallowed hard with this new, intimate view of his body.  Melisandre placed Sansa’s hands on Jon’s shoulders.  Then she whispered in Sansa’s ear.  

“Taste him.”  

Jon  _ had _ to know it was her.  Her fingers were cold, not like the hot palms of the lady, formerly in red.  He had to sense her uncertainness as well.  When she hesitated, Melisandre’s lips brushed against her ear.  Her eyelids fluttered at the strange contact and how warm her breath was.  Sansa’s mouth went dry. 

“I’ll happily do it instead.”  

Okay, what kind of monster would request such a thing?  They knew she and Jon were related.  But Sansa wasn’t going to refuse and get something worse.  So she pressed her mouth against the edge of his jaw in a chaste kiss.  Jon’s trimmed facial hair prickled her lips.  He still smelled of Jon even with the strange chemicals from the fake blood and random scents of the haunt.   _ A haunted house, that’s where we are. _ She forgot in this mess.  

Jon pulled his head away at her touch.  She was proud of his resistance, until his lips curl back in a snarl.  “Stop,” he said hoarsely.  

Her stomach dropped.   _ He’ll torture you if I don’t. _  As if she could use that as an excuse any longer.  

“You can end this whenever you want.  Just beg for mercy.”  Ramsay said darkly to Jon.  Sansa waited for him to say something, but his scowl only deepened.

Melisandre’s voice sharpened in the next whisper.  “Bite him.”

_ Where? _  There was never the thought of refusal.  She leaned into a better position, gently sinking her teeth into Jon’s muscular neck.  Jon hissed through his teeth, but it couldn’t be from pain.  

“Harder.”  Ramsay ordered.

She increased the pressure, altering her position.  Jon made the quietest noise.  She only heard the hitch in his throat, because his mouth was so close to her ear.  She quickly withdrew, even though she found it all strangely erotic, it certainly didn’t look like he did.  Sansa wondered what he would do knowing it was her in his lap. 

His fists clenched, flexing the muscles up his forearms.  Sansa didn’t hear Ramsay’s approach, too lost in Jon’s reactions to her.  Her body suddenly tensed as she was blindsided with pain, a surprised scream tore from her mouth.  

_ Oh no. _

 

 

 

The woman on top of Jon screamed, startling him.  She grasped onto his shoulders, breathing erratically.  This wasn’t the red woman.  It was fucking  _ Sansa _ .  

Sansa  _ bit  _ him?

Jon heard the crack of electricity again.  Sansa pressed herself against him, not that she could help it.  He grit his teeth, the movement against his crotch was bad enough, but now that he knew it was her….fuck.  

_ She’s in pain!   _ He screamed at himself.  But gods, did she have to grind herself against him?  His hands went to grab her waist to steady her, ease her off him, but he once again forgot he couldn’t move them.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

 

 

 

Sansa heard his curse and tried to turn her head to keep the next cry from deafening him.  It hurt, but not bad enough to warrant the end of it all.  And pressed up against Jon’s toned body, his beard scratching against her cheek, and skin against skin made it so much more bearable.  

_ Yes, bearable.  _  Nothing more.  Were his lips always so full and pretty?  _  And biteable.   _ Oh, she wished she could see those dark eyes, because she was far too obsessed with his mouth.  

Jon exhaled, parting of those perfect lips and she leaned closer.  He could probably feel her breath on them.  She imagined her teeth pulling at his plump bottom lip.  

Ramsay jerked her arm, pulling into an upright position.  Melisandre removed Jon’s blindfold.  He didn’t dare look her in the eyes, and she didn’t blame him.   _ Please don’t hate me for this. _  Her eyes almost began to water at the thought.

“Look at her.”  Ramsay demanded.  

_ Oh gods. _  Now they had to keep eye contact?  Ramsay held his little electrical toy and she flinched when it got close.  He shocked her for averting her eyes.  Sansa’s back arched, she sucked in a breath, eyelids fluttering, but mostly maintained her gaze with Jon.  Her thighs unconsciously squeezed around him; his mouth opened as if he was going to make a sound, but he remained silent. 

Sansa bit her own tongue as punishment for reveling in the sight of him.  The pain was secondary, if you could even call it that anymore.  That’s when Ramsay changed where he prodded her.  Her hips, thigh and ass stung, but as he crept up the side of her back, it got more painful.  Her nails dug into Jon’s shoulders; his curls brushed her fingers.  The electricity sparked against her right side.  She scrunched up her nose, and tugged Jon’s hair.  His responded with a subtle roll of his hips. Sansa moaned unexpectedly, and quickly tried to twist it into sounding pain-related; hiding the ripple of pleasure through her body.  

 

 

_ Bad, Jon.  Very bad. _  Jon shouldn’t have done that.  The slight move just timed out perfectly.  He couldn’t help himself, and he was now punished with her thighs clenched around him again.  He nearly begged her to stop.  She pressed down against him without any prodding or pain, playing it off as if she was merely re-situating herself.  He bit his lip and she mimicked the action with her own teeth digging into her flesh.  Thank gods he wasn’t able to touch her.  

Ramsay buried his hand in Sansa’s hair, snapping her head back, keeping a tight grip.  “Can’t enjoy yourself too much.”  he scolded.  “If I let it go you’d be cumming in his lap.”  Sansa’s lips trembled.  “And you want that very badly, I can see it in your pretty, blue eyes.”  

Jon said nothing, trying not to look at Sansa or bring attention to his erection that she had to feel.  

“Are you two fucking?”

“No!”  Jon hissed.  

“Oh gods,” Sansa whispered aloud.  

“That was more fun than I anticipated.”  He grinned at Jon, and released Sansa’s hair.  “I suppose I’ll reward you with the only way out of here.”  Melisandre handed Ramsay a key.  “If you can make it there.”

 

 

 

Sansa couldn’t think straight; her thoughts a chaotic mess.  “A key?”  She asked.  “We can go?”

Ramsay patted her head.  “Oh, you sweet girl, don’t sound so disappointed.  I intend to end this on something that will actually one of break you.”  He said, tossing their only way out into the pool of blood.  “If you can escape, you’re free.  It’s as easy as that.  I’ll even give you a head start.”  He motioned for Sansa to go.  

She pushed herself off of Jon, in a confused cloud of endorphins, guilt and arousal.  She warily speed-walked to the large basin of blood, knelt by the edge, and looked back over to Jon. 

Ramsay put his hand on Jon’s shoulder and pulled a lever, reclining the chair back suddenly.  He pressed a black cloth over Jon’s face and turned the valve above, locking it open.  Water began to cascade over Jon’s concealed face. 

“There’s a few seconds relief if you can last the time in between.”  Ramsay spoke to Jon as if he could even hear him.  “We’ll be back shortly, and if you haven’t gotten out by then...Well, I’ll have you both screaming the safeword.”  He said, smiling at the sound of Jon’s labored breathing. 

Sansa tentatively dipped her hand into the viscous, red water.  The red woman walked by Jon before she left.  As the water poured, she ran her hand up his inner thigh making him nearly choke.  Sansa winced at the sound of him struggling between breaths, and abandoned the search for the key. She raced to his side and reached for the lever Ramsay used to reverse it.  It barely budged with all of her strength.  

“Damn it!”  Sansa went to his hands, fumbling to unstrap his wrists.  As soon she freed the first one, he nearly smacked her in the face to twist his body out of the water’s path.  She pulled the cloth off his face, as Jon heaved for air.  His eyes brimmed eyes full of tears, but he quickly closed his eyes tightly to collect himself.  He looked exhausted.  

Sansa looked back to the pool of blood with a heavy sigh.  “I’m going to try and fish this key out before pyramid head shows up next.”   
Jon cracked a smile and a little laugh escaped his raw throat.   

 

 

 

“You don’t have to do that.”  Jon argued but she was already elbow deep into the liquid.

Sansa dug around with obvious disgust on her face.  “There’s all sorts of stuff down here,” she winced.  “Eww.”  

Jon watched her hair dip into the mess, she furrowed her brow in concentration.  How was she not in tears?  Who the hell was this woman?  

Her eyes lit up, “I think I got it.”  Sansa leaned in just a little more to reach.  Suddenly her face turned to terror.  Before she could utter a word, her body hurtled forward.  Jon grabbed her arm, just as her head dunked beneath the surface, and wrenched her back.  Luckily, whatever had a hold on her quickly let go.  She fell into him with the key clutched in her fingers.  The red, thick fluid coated her entire head.  She desperately wiped it from her mouth and nose to breathe.

“You’re okay,” Jon tried to clear it from her eyes while Sansa gagged and sputtered.

“Ugh!”  Sansa spit red on the floor.  “What was that?!”  She shouted in between dry heaves.

He had no answer for her, but they sure as hell didn’t want to wait and find out.  

“Come on,” he hefted her up to her feet.  He might have to carry her.  “We have to go.” 

She was still too shaken to move on her own, so Jon went back to her and gripped her hand tightly.  She nodded and wobbly ran with him. The large doors were imposing, but opened easily.  

It led into another dark corridor.  

“It’s not over?!”  Sansa cried out as her resolve cracked.  Jon pulled her close against him not letting her pause.  The only source of light were a line bulbs flickering badly overhead.  At first it he squinted at the bad strobe light effect, but with each step the stretches of darkness lengthened.  As they neared the end of the hall, Jon glimpsed a split.  Sansa whimpered each time pitch blackness enveloped them; he only clenched her shaking hand tighter.  

_ Left or Right? _

At the turn it was completely dark again.  As if it wouldn’t give them any sight until a decision was made.  Jon hated being thrown back into this after his mind was fucked with literally seconds ago.  He pushed everything that happened between them aside.  Sansa pulled him to the right, and Jon followed her lead.

After progressing a few steps the light finally flashed again.  Sansa’s head snapped back to get a glimpse of the route they didn’t choose.  She screamed.  Louder than Jon ever heard her scream before; it made his ears ring.  It was black again before Jon could see what she did, but he trusted her reaction.  

He dragged her along at a much swifter pace, and tried to not look back no matter how badly he wanted to.  The lights came back as they arrived at a wall with a small opening near the floor.  Jon crouched down, examining inside with a pained expression.  It was completely dark and too tight for his liking.  

“We have to crawl!”  Jon blurted out.  He didn’t particularly light tight spaces.  “Do you want me to go first?”  

Sansa stared in fright at man with a mask, just standing at the end of the hall with an axe in his hand.  Then he began to slowly walk towards them as the lights went out again.  

She screamed again. 

“Just go!”  She frantically pushed him towards to the hole in the wall.  Jon swallowed the all consuming dread and crawled down the tiny passage.  

Sansa scrambled behind him, hyperventilating loudly.  Jon mentally talked himself up as he crawled.  They wouldn’t make anyone do this for too long.  He suddenly stopped as his hands met with a hard surface in front of him.  Sansa collided with him in the dark.  

“Why aren’t you moving?!”  Sansa growled with a mix of panic and fury.

“It’s--it’s a dead end.”  Jon answered shakily.  

“What?!”  She pounded her fists on his ass, which didn’t help at all.  “It can’t be!”

Physically and mentally exhausted, trapped in a tiny tunnel with nowhere to go, and Sansa flipping out behind him, Jon was seconds away from losing his shit.  “We have to backtrack.”

“I-I can’t breathe,”  She wheezed.  

Neither could he.  _  I give up. _

“Th-ere has to be a -a sec-ret door!”  Sansa sobbed.  

Jon welcomed the rush of anger; it kept the looming panic attack at bay.  “There is no secret door!”  He shouted.  His hand felt the wall as if she could see his attempt to appease her.  “There’s nothing here.”  His fingers brushed against an indentation on the wall.  He grit his teeth tracing the edges.  There was a keyhole for that key she dove into fake blood for.

_ A secret motherfucking door.   _

“Tell me you still have that key.”  He whispered hoarsely.  A loud bang from behind them in the tunnel made Sansa shriek in fear as she shoved it into his palm.  He jammed the damn thing in and turned it.  The wall in front of him moved, but only opened to more darkness ahead to crawl through.  “This is a never ending fucking nightmare.”  

Jon moved ahead and slipped down a surprisingly steep incline.  He slid quickly headfirst down a tunnel and tumbled out into a well-lit area, completely disoriented.  The large, red painted exit sign immediately caught his attention.  Jon’s heart pounded in his chest as he got to his feet.  Beyond the sign, the sound of people casually conversing and music playing gave Jon a burst of hope  Robb and Theon’s distinct voices, carried through the walls. 

“Oh thank fuck,” he whispered, raking his hair back with both hands.

He looked to the slide.  “Sansa?”  Where the fuck was she?  “Sansa, it’s the end!”  He shouted up the tunnel.  

No response.  

“If you make me climb the fuck back in there, Sansa Stark-”

Sansa flew out the tunnel with a scream; he barely dodged her clipping his knees.  She landed gracelessly on her face.  Tears streaked her bloodied face, but her eyes lit up surveying their surroundings.

“W-what?”  She pointed to the exit sign, struggling to stand.  “It’s over?”  

“I-I think so,” his voice was tight.  Sansa wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. She openly sobbed with happiness.  Her legs gave out, but instead of holding her up Jon just went to the floor as well, and he really wanted to cry with her.   

A girl entered the room.  Her horrific makeup looked almost comical in the normal light.  They both flinched and reared back involuntarily.

The girl only smiled.  “No worries.  It’s over.  You both did it.”  She offered them a couple towels, that they tentatively took, like small frightened animals.  “We met earlier in there.  I’m Myranda.  Take your time, then you can meet with your friends.  We’ll get what we can of your clothing.”  

Sansa viciously combed her fingers through her matted hair, but it was no use. 

Myranda returned shortly with the majority of their clothes; she promised they were looking for his shirt.  It was lost early on so it was taking a moment.  Everything was wet and uncomfortable to wear anyway.  Jon tied back his hair and offered to help Sansa with hers.  Her fingers still shaky enough that she struggled and reluctantly took his offer.  Once they were presentable enough, they looked at each other.  

“I still don’t feel quite right.”  Sansa said nervously.  

Jon knew exactly what she meant.  “We don’t need to tell them anything.”   

Sansa snickered.  “We need to tell them  _ something _ .”  They walked out the doors into a large area where Robb, Theon, Talisa, and other random people who worked there were drinking and eating.  They appeared to be having a great fucking time.

“Holy hell!”  Theon laughed spotting them. 

“Are you alright?”  Robb pushed Theon aside; his concern directed at Sansa.  

She nodded with a shaky smile.  “For the most part, thanks to Jon.”

Robb smacked Jon on the shoulder; he winced after so much physical contact.  “I should hope so.  What are brothers for?”

Sansa merely nodded silently.  Talisa sidled up to her, much more aware and coherent since the last time Jon saw her.  “Knew you could do it!”

Robb sighed and quickly explained.  “She took a nap and woke up five minutes ago.  It apparently reenergized her.”

Theon regarded Jon, then gave Sansa a onceover, much to Jon’s displeasure.  “What the fuck happened to the both of you?”

“What happened to you?”  Sansa quickly returned the question.  “We heard you yell the safeword pretty loudly.”

Theon’s smile soured, but he opened his mouth for a retort.

“Congratulations.” All four of them recoiled at the voice, except Talisa, who was blissfully unaware.  Ramsay approached with Jon’s lost shirt and a smirk.  “The two of you were the only ones to make it through tonight.”

“Dude, that shit was fucked up,” Theon spat angrily.  “Who ties up a man and threatens to castrate him with a knife at his balls?  And who was that decrepit naked old woman fondling me?  That was horrifying enough.”

 

 

 

As soon as they arrived home, Jon and Sansa leapt from the car to their respective rooms without even a glance at each other.  She called the shower first and no one denied her.   Her mind kept reliving the moments over and over in the hot shower and after.  Sleep would not come easy to her tonight or any time soon. 

Sansa wanted to talk to him.  Lie beside him, even in silence, just have someone next to her.  She couldn’t even bring herself to turn her lamp off.  

She closed her eyes.  Her brow furrowed, remembering the ache between her legs in Jon’s lap, and how shamelessly she acted.  She pushed the towel away and let her hand finally slid lower.  She bit her lip trying to remember every detail, but it was slowly slipping away.  She felt his hardened cock as she convulsed on top of him.  She didn’t blame him for it.  She might have exaggerated her movements just a little bit.  She was a wicked girl, and now he knew it.  He had to.  Her fresh pair panties were already soaked as she dragged them down her legs.  She could still hear his ragged breathing and husky voice.  Her fingers slid inside before bringing the slickness to her clit.  Her lips silently mouthed his name.  

Sansa bit her lip again, wishing it was his between her teeth.  She cursed herself for not tasting those plump, pouty lips or dragging her tongue up his neck, lapping his sweat.  If she could just get her wet fingers out of her cunt she could put the entire night to paper or whatever electronic device.  But she couldn’t.  The thought of Jon being a wretched mess is just too delicious.   She gasped aloud; her fingers dipped deeper.  She could hate herself later, right now she focused on how his growing cock felt,  and thrust of his hips against her mound. 

 

 

 

Jon leaned back in bed, the night was still so fucking vivid in his head that the fantasy required nothing but just closing his eyes.  He could hear Ramsay’s voice clearly.  It was easy to imagine hearing new words from his lips.  Maybe ordering him to his knees in front of Sansa.  Her tied and unable to move.  Her crystal blue eyes went from Ramsay to him.  Jon didn’t mind the intermediary at all.  Something about it intrigued him. Ramsay ordered him to take off her underwear with his mouth.  Jon smirked as he gripped himself, he’d probably struggle to get the waistband down with his teeth.  Maybe he’d get shocked or struck on the ass for taking too long.  Maybe that would just make him dip too low, his lips brushing over her clit.  

“Jon!”  Sansa gasped, unable to shut her legs.  He slid his tongue in between her folds.  She arched her back, cursing, but singing his name.  

“Fuck.”  Jon gripped his cock tighter.  It was the second time he was getting himself off since he got home.

Jon stared at the ceiling, still restless.  He needed a drink...or five.  He should be positively sick for pleasuring himself to his half-sister.  Guilt would inevitably come later, but right now there was none, and he took advantage of it.  

The door to the cellar was open and he entered the cool, dark room.  Sansa was sitting at the lone table down there with liquor in a glass and a her chin in her hands.  Her eyes raised to meet his with a surprised smile.  Her cheeks flushed, maybe already from the drink.

She pushed a glass across the table to him.  “I almost came to your room, but I thought you might be sick of me by now.”

“Sick of you?  No,” he scoffed, but slammed the drink of straight liquor and immediately poured another throwing it back down his throat with a cough.  

She placed a black card in front of him.  Jon squinted.  “What’s this?”

“Ramsay Bolton’s card.  He slid it to me before we left.  In case we ever wanted to book him or his ‘services’ again.”   Jon read it over with a furrowed brow.   Sansa folded her hands.  “He says his actual dungeon isn’t as dramatic, that he could tailor scenes specifically to our tastes, and promised discretion.”

Jon was baffled, trying not to think back to the thoughts he just pleasured himself to, and how could Sansa be so casual discussing it?

She shrugged with a smile.  “I thought it was funny, and completely mad, because no offense, Jon, but you couldn’t tap me with a cane.”

“Was that a disappointment for you?  I was under the impression we’d forget most of the events of this evening and never speak of them again.”  He said dryly.  So she _did_ want it.  He really didn't need another kink to add to his perverted fantasy.   

Sansa appeared surprised, but smiled weakly.  “Sorry,” she nodded to her empty glass.  “I had two of these already, and I still can’t take the edge off.  I’m not going to be able to sleep with the light off for days.”  Her nails tapped the table. 

Jon smirked.  “You know this is all Robb’s fault.”  

 

 

 

“What the fuck?”  Robb found himself nearly pushed off his giant bed.  

“You brought this on yourself,” Sansa said with a grin, gripping the blankets and pulling hard over her body.  Jon slid in beside her and helped her pull more blankets away from the eldest Stark.     

“I didn’t make you two torture yourselves to the end,” he complained, but didn’t actually mind his sister and half-brother in his room.  Talisa couldn’t spend the night, and the clown with the axe that chased him throughout half the haunted house and nailed him in the coffin still freaked him out.  

  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of want to continue this in one shots or something. I don't know. Just a thought.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, yes, there's more of this disaster. I should have the entire thing posted by Halloween if I'm not swamped by work. 
> 
> I know it's not my best, but I guess I'm gonna keep posting for the one person who will get some enjoyment out of this.


End file.
